


Listless

by tjs_whatnot



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Blow Jobs, Cross-Generation Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-19
Updated: 2015-08-19
Packaged: 2018-04-11 04:45:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4421882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tjs_whatnot/pseuds/tjs_whatnot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remus has a list of all the reasons it won’t work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Listless

**Author's Note:**

> capitu, thank you soooo much for requesting this pairing! I love them so! I meant for it to be much more dirty-wrong and a lot less with the talky-talk, but the boys just would not shut up. My apologies. And mod, you’re the BEST! Seriously, thank you so very much for your patience and your once-over. They were both appreciated immensely.

"It will get better. Hurt less," Remus said from where he stood behind Ron in the doorway.

Ron looked at him, tearing his eyes from where they had been fixed on Harry and Sirius, who were immersed in some conversation on the other side of the room. The way their heads bent so that they were so close to almost touching foreheads; Ron had gotten the message. This was a conversation for two. His presence wasn’t necessary.

He’d gotten that message a lot since the end of the war; since Sirius returned.

Ron sputtered and was about to feign ignorance, but something in Remus’ eyes as he came and sat beside him told Ron that he knew _exactly_ what he was talking about. The way Remus’ eyes darted to Sirius told Ron all he needed to know.

"When exactly will it get better, hurt less?"

Remus sighed. "I imagine any day now."

Part of Ron’s heart sunk, that wasn’t uplifting news. But, there was another part that was so beyond relieved that he hadn’t been the only dumb arse who had fallen for his best friend. That there was someone out there who understood, who shared his secret fears.

"How long have you--?" Ron started.

"Loved my best mate?" Remus finished with a shrug. "I don’t actually remember a time when I didn’t. You?"

Ron stole another long look at Harry before leaning closer to Remus and answering in a low voice. "It’s something that has been building and morphing for a long time, you know? It just played in the margins of pretty much every thought. At first it was just a vague notion, but over the years it became something that occupied a lot of my spare time. Then last year, the two of us and Hermione, alone in a tent for all that time. I nearly died with it. And it got worse when he confessed to me that he was gay."

"He is?" Remus asked, raising his head to look at the pair across the room again.

"Yes. I almost confessed my… well… my obsession really, by then… but I couldn’t. I'm thankful for that now. I don’t think he’ll ever see me in that light."

"It’s a hard thing to navigate. I won’t lie."

"But you? You and Sirius? Is he...? Have you two…?"

"Is he gay? Have we been together?" Remus filled in for Ron who nodded. Remus continued.

"Sirius is a bit more _fluid_ with his preferences."

"Huh?" Ron asked.

"The more fluids he’s drunk, the more he’s able to see the possibilities of almost anyone."

"And you two?"

Remus’ eyes got somber. "Well, let’s just say, for a while, I made sure I was his only drinking partner."

Ron swallowed, trying to put himself in Remus’ shoes, trying to imagine a relationship like that with Harry and if that could be enough. Right now? When he’d take even the merest glance in his direction, he honestly didn’t know, so he asked Remus. "And that was… enough?"

"It was. Like I said, for a while."

"And now?"

There was a long pause while they both looked at the couple across the room. Then Remus started with another sigh. "At some point, you’re going to have to come to terms and accept what it is Harry can willingly offer you. You'll have to be okay with it, not try and change it--or him--not wait and see if maybe, someday he’ll come around. Then, after that, when you’ve convinced yourself that it was the hardest thing you’ve ever done and now that you’ve done it you can relax, you will realize that wasn’t even close to the hardest thing."

"What’s the hardest thing?" Ron asked equally mesmerized and terrified. 

"You’re going to have to let him go. Go out and get on with your life with this scab of all your What-Could-Be wounds still fresh. Then one day, if you’re lucky--which I think you are--sooner rather than later, you’ll realize that there are no scabs, no visible scars and even the mental ones are healing without too much flaw."

Ron couldn’t even imagine a life without the ache of loving Harry in it, and quite frankly, he didn’t want to, not yet. Still… "And how long does this take again?"

Remus smiled. "Like I said, you’re lucky. You’re young and you have something that I didn’t when I was your age and new to this pain."

"What’s that?" Ron asked.

"Me."

Ron sputtered. "Pardon?"

"When I was new to the ache of unrequitedly loving my best friend, of course I had friends who told me what a bad idea that was, told me I deserved better, that I was worthy to be loved the same way I loved. But I didn’t have anyone who was saying that they knew _exactly_ what I was going through, knew _exactly_ how it felt and how hard it was. You have me. And believe me, _I know._ "

"Thank you," Ron whispered, feeling immensely relieved and for the first time in a long time, not alone.

What Ron didn’t realize at the time, or for the weeks that followed, was that now Sirius and Harry weren’t the only ones at 12 Grimmauld Place who had their heads together in quiet, private conversations. Remus and he spent almost as much time sitting close, heads very nearly touching, in deep talks of their own.

At first it was about their shared suffering, and then it was about their not shared suffering. Ron talked about his family, his role in it. He talked about his "Horcrux Fears" as he’d come to call them, that he’d never be good enough, that he’d never be loved enough, that he’d never matter the most. Remus opened up to him about the terror and pain of what is like to be a werewolf, to not be yourself, to have no control once a month. The horror of what you were capable of, what you might have done. The fear that it made you unsuitable for having anyone look past the monster to see all the other, non-life-threatening things you had to offer.

Finally they talked about getting out there, experiencing all that life as a gay man had to offer, and yes, Remus insisted, it did have a lot to offer. He told Ron about the pros and cons of the Muggle gay lifestyle versus the Wizard one—because, yes, Remus had lived them both and yes, they were different. He gave him lists of places to check out, what sort of places they were, what they offered and who he’d met while there. 

It was easier than Ron would have guessed to talk Remus into accompanying him to the club.

~oOo~

"So," Harry walked into Ron’s room. Ron was trying to decide what to wear that night.

"Yeah?" Ron mumbled, peeking his head out of the wardrobe.

"You and Remus…"

"Me and Remus?" Ron asked, confused.

"Well… you’ve just been… you two have been spending a lot of time together?"

 _What was that tone?_ Ron thought with frantic incredulity. It wasn’t the question; it was the way it was asked. The way it sounded to Ron exactly like the voice in his own head when he thought about Harry and Sirius. Was this _jealousy_ from Harry? Harry jealous of him and Remus? It didn’t make sense. Still, it was a bit delicious to hear he wasn’t the only one who suffered. He shrugged and turned back to the wardrobe to hide his enjoyment.

Harry just stood there as if he needed more from Ron than the shrug told. After a moment, Ron schooled his expression and turned back. "He just knows things."

"Knows things?" That was definitely jealousy. Ron was almost ashamed at how gleeful this made him. He should correct Harry; tell him there was nothing between him and Remus. He should, but he just couldn’t.

"He’s taking me to the clubs. I’ve been dying to go to one for months now. I mean, you’re only young once, ya know?"

"Yeah, right. Only once."

Ron turned back around. "You want to come?"

Harry thought about it. "Maybe next time? Sirius wanted to… we were going…" Harry didn’t finish. 

Ron shrugged on his jacket. "Definitely next time. See you later?"

"Yeah. Bye."

Ron tried not to look back, but there was something in Harry’s voice again and he couldn’t help wonder if it was on his face as well. Something a bit wistful and a bit disappointed. His face said the same thing and Ron felt light and giddy as he walked down the hall.

But by the time he’d gotten out of the house, to the place where he could Apparate, to the place he’d be meeting Remus, he felt a bit shitty for getting enjoyment from Harry’s… what? Was he really jealous? If so, what did that mean? 

"Hey, what are you drinking?" Remus asked as Ron slid beside him at the bar, his conversation with Harry almost forgotten in his excitement to be out, really truly out, for the first time in his life.

"Firewhisky."

"Muggles don’t have Firewhisky." Remus raised his hand and the bartender, a beefy man in a tight black t-shirt came over to take their order. He gave a smile to Ron as he walked away that Ron couldn’t help notice. He also couldn’t help notice how tight his jeans were and how well they fit him, especially in the backside.

"Think he’s hot?" Remus asked.

"What? Who?" Ron sputtered. Sometimes it was hard to get used to Remus as a contemporary. Having him use the word "hot" was a bit disconcerting. Adults didn’t use that word, did they? Then Ron remembered that he, too, was an adult.

"It’s okay to find men attractive, you know?" Remus said. "Sort of mandatory in a place like this."

"I know. It’s all just a bit new. And the whole Muggle thing isn’t helping. Why did we come to one of their places again?"

Remus shrugged. "Sometimes it’s easier when you’re out of your element."

The hot bartender returned with two tumblers filled with an amber liquid that looked and smelled like Firewhisky to Ron. Tasted like it too, as he raised his glass to Remus and took a swallow. There was the same burn, same warm feeling in his chest, and after a few, the same free and happy feeling in his soul.

"Let’s dance," Ron said, tugging at Remus’ sleeve.

"What? No. Not with me. Find someone. That’s why you’re here. Find someone to get your mind off of…"

"Harry?" Ron asked when Remus stalled.

Remus nodded.

"Harry who?" He stood up, drained his glass and pulled Remus to stand in front of him. "I don’t want to dance with anyone else. Not if I have to leave you alone here at the bar."

"I’ll be fine here, really."

"You’ll be finer out there."

"And you know this because?"

"Because you’ll be with me."

He grabbed Remus’ hand and practically dragged him to the dance floor. Remus relented after a few feet though and by the time they got to the dance floor, he was stepping to the beat of the music. Ron was never a great dancer, but when he’d had enough to drink, he didn’t care. Remus seemed to have the same attitude. They both weren’t the best dancers in the club, but it didn’t really matter. They were too drunk to give a shit. Most everyone else was too drunk, or wrapped up in their own seductions to bother with them, either. Or, almost everyone.

"What a bunch of spazzes," one guy said over his shoulder to his friend as they walked by.

The friend laughed. "Didn’t know it was Bring Your Dad to the Club night."

They both laughed but Ron barely heard it from the pounding in his ears. Seeing the pained look in Remus’ eyes, Ron’s anger turned to rage, and that turned to recklessness as, instead of punching the oafs as they walked by, he grabbed Remus and kissed him. Hard.

Remus seemed to be as stunned by this as Ron had been to be doing it. He held his hands up as if he didn’t know what to do with them, push Ron away or wrap his arms around him. Finally, after a very long time with Ron’s tongue in his mouth and his arms tight around Remus’ waist, he rested his hands on each side of Ron’s face.

But a moment after that, Remus pushed Ron gently away and broke the kiss.

"Why did you do that?" Remus shouted into Ron’s ear.

Ron held Remus neck in his hand and raised his voice into his ear. "Because you are _not_ my father, and these people need to know that."

Remus took his hand and let him out the door to the almost deserted street.

"Did I do something wrong?" Ron asked.

"No. Not really. I just can’t hear in there."

"You’re not my father."

"I know that."

"I wanted _them_ to know that."

"I could be. I’m old enough."

"No you’re not. And I’d have to ask my mum to be sure, but I’m pretty sure my dad doesn’t kiss like that."

Ron watched Remus’ cheeks rose in a blush and added that to the list of things adults weren’t supposed to do, but he loved that Remus did. Before he had kissed Remus to shut up those arseholes, but now he sort of wanted to do it again for different reasons. Yes, the alcohol burning in his stomach and swimming in his blood was one of those reasons, and perhaps there was a bit of that look Harry had given him mixed into the desire, but Ron was shocked to discover neither of those were the overriding reason. The biggest reason was just because he wanted to, nothing more.

"That wasn’t even that good of a kiss. You caught me by surprise."

Ron pushed Remus against the building behind him none too gently. "You can do better?"

Ron watched as Remus expression changed about a million times, as if warring with himself. But when he saw Remus smile wryly, he was once again overcome with giddiness.

"Perhaps," he said with a shrug. Then he grabbed Ron, one hand at the back of his neck, the other at the small of his back, pulling him to his lips. He led the kiss this time and Ron happily let him. Ron had kissed a few blokes before, but nothing like this, nothing so desperate, nothing that made him feel this _need_ in the heart of him.

He was following Remus’ lead on the kiss, but the rest of his body was definitely doing its own thing. His thumbs tugged at Remus’ trouser belt loops as his fingers dug into the fabric at Remus’ hips. His own hips swayed and ground against Remus, his cock hard and yearning inside his pants. The sensation of fabric and Remus’ cock, solid and needy beside it, almost made him come without a touch.

By the racing heartbeat he felt from Remus, Ron knew he wanted it just as bad. His fingers worked the buttons on Remus’ trousers. He instantly regretted it, as this seemed to click something in Remus’ head and he pushed Ron away, panting.

"Stop."

"Are you fuckin’ kidding me?" Ron asked, incredulous.

Remus looked apologetic. "I’m sorry. I should have never… this is a bad… we…"

Ron found this completely unacceptable. "But we have… and we can’t… oh come _on_! Can’t we regret this shit tomorrow?"

"Such a mouth on you, Mr. Weasley," Remus said, trying to sound scandalized.

 _I’d like to have my mouth on you_ , Ron thought but didn’t say. "I only watched my tongue before, out of that whole respect-for-my-elders thing. And don’t call me Mr. Weasley."

"So are you saying you no longer have respect for me? Because I’m still older than you. Much older than you."

"Not _that_ old." Remus gave him a raised eyebrow look. "Seriously. You’re not my dad old."

"I could—"

"No, you couldn’t. Stop right now. Do you still see me as a kid?" _Please say no. Please say no._

"Well, I don’t _now_ ," Remus said with a laugh. "How sick would that be?"

Ron’s memory flashed to the feel of Remus’ erection next to his and smiled. "Pretty fuckin’ sick. So, what’s the problem?"

Remus ran his fingers through his hair. "Too many to count. Come on, let’s walk."

There were so many other things Ron wished they were doing, but fine. They walked, and they talked.

"Okay," Remus began once they crossed the street. "We’ll forget about the age thing, because that’s not really the biggest problem—or if it is, it plays out in a lot of the other problems."

"Whatever," Ron grumbled.

"Little Problem One: you’re drunk. So am I."

Ron shrugged. "So?"

"People do things they regret when they’re drunk. I don’t want to regret you; I really don’t want to be regretted. We live in the same house, mostly. I don’t want that to be weird."

Ron couldn’t believe Remus was actually going to list all the reasons that fucking him was a bad idea. "Well, I can tell you that I’m a lot less drunk now than I was when we stepped out of the bar. If we sober up before we get home and still want to have sex, can we?"

Remus chuckled. "Perhaps."

Ron wanted to Apparate them home right then, have his way with the man. He also wanted to make sure that he was sober enough to convince Remus it was a conscious decision and wasn’t the alcohol talking.

So they walked some more. They talked some more. Ron was relieved when Remus seemed to leave the rest of his list of reasons why they couldn’t be together alone. He also seemed to be as anxious as Ron to get home. This cheered Ron immeasurable. 

However, by the time they got home, Ron had sobered up. And what usually happens when he sobered up happened. He got really tired.

But, Merlin did he want to. 

When they entered the house and there was no sign of Harry or Sirius-- Ron refused to imagine where they were and what they were doing--he took Remus’ hand and walked them both to his room. Remus didn’t pull away, didn’t get out his list, and Ron took this as good a sign.

They had barely shut the door before Ron had Remus up against it, mimicking their stance from earlier that night outside the club.

"Regretting me yet?" Remus asked in a whisper.

Ron shook his head no. "Not even drunk anymore or anything. What about you?"

Remus took a moment to answer and while he waited, Ron put his forehead to Remus’ chest, too tired to press the point anymore.

"Should we give it a day?" Remus asked instead of answering the other question.

Ron tried to hide both his sigh of relief and the yawn trying to escape his body. He nodded, his forehead still on Remus’ chest. He slid his hands up Remus’ sides and wrapped them around his neck, raising his head and giving Remus one last scorching kiss that left them both a bit breathless after.

"What was that?" Remus moaned.

"Something to remember me by," Ron whispered, licking his lips slowly.

"Why are you making this so hard?" Remus asked with a whine. 

Ron felt Remus’ erection through their trousers and laughed. He was sure that wasn’t what Remus had meant, but he blushed all the same. Instead of going back on his suggestion though, he slid away and reached behind him to open the door and slink out, not taking his eyes off Ron the whole while.

Ron stumbled to his bed after he heard Remus’ bedroom door down the hall open and close. He was still exhausted, but he also still had a massive and throbbing erection he felt he needed to take care of. He toed off his shoes and shimmied out of his trousers and pants urgently before falling in a heap onto his bed. Just the friction of his covers, the firmness of his mattress and he almost came. He wondered if he could just hump the bed instead of wanking, but he really needed to feel it, needed to imagine it wasn’t his hand on his cock, wasn’t _his_ cock he was stroking. The loud fumblings and groans from down the hall spurred on this desire further. The idea of Remus tugging himself while thinking of him was all that Ron needed to turn around while enthusiastically and firmly taking himself in hand.

It didn’t take long. And it wasn’t until he was at the very cusp of falling into a deep, much needed sleep that he jolted with a start at the realization that for the first time in a long… okay, for the first time _ever_ he had made himself come without the image of piercing green eyes, of a lightning shaped scar, and a mop of unruly black hair in his mind. It was almost exhilarating. That and the loud cry of completion from Remus’ room put a silly grin on Ron’s face that was still there the next morning as he made his way to the kitchen for coffee.

Remus was at the kitchen table, hunched over his coffee cup, head in his hands. Ron’s stomach dropped. He wasn’t exactly sure what regret looked like, but he had a good idea he was seeing it firsthand. But, still, even that couldn’t get the smile off his face.

"Hey."

Remus looked up. "Hey you."

"Almost ready?" Sirius said from the other side of the room and Ron jumped. He hadn’t even noticed him.

"Just give me a minute," Remus said.

Sirius looked disapprovingly between the two of them but didn’t comment as he walked out of the room. Sirius obvious knew something, Ron thought with a little bit of confused panic, but he wasn’t Ron’s biggest concern at the time. He went and sat next to Remus, moving his chair close.

"Regrets?" Ron asked, terrified to actually hear the truth that he saw in the way Remus was hiding his face. 

But then Remus looked up and Ron swallowed. He looked awful. Ron had been hungover a lot in his short time as an adult, but nothing like this, nothing that made him look so peaky and clammy. Then, as he looked in Remus’ eyes, hollow and haunted, Ron realized it wasn’t the night before’s effects, it was the night to come's. 

"Only one regret," Remus whispered, his voice gravelly and hoarse.

"Yeah?" Ron asked. 

"Our timing."

Ron’s ridiculous grin was back, but only for a moment out of respect for Remus’ predicament. Instead he leaned in, ran the length of his nose against Remus’. 

Remus leaned into the contact and whispered, "We’re going away for a few days. Padfoot and I."

Ron whined, his lips ghosting along the curve and shape of Remus’. "Stay safe, yeah?"

Remus swallowed, the tip of his tongue peeking out, tasting Ron. "Always."

"Come back as soon as you can," Ron ordered, his own tongue slicking out of his lips to meet Remus’.

Ron wanted to devour him, but he also didn’t want to be the one always doing the instigating. 

"I will. We still have things to talk about. I still have many, many points to make."

Ron moaned. "Your Why-We-Shouldn’t-Fuck list?"

Remus smiled slow. "Exactly."

"Can’t wait."

Remus’ hand slid up Ron’s chest and circled behind Ron’s neck, pulling him close so he could kiss Ron long and slow. Ron was relieved he was already sitting down, by the time the kiss was over, he could no longer feel his legs, or any other limbs. His lips, though, were sizzling.

"What was that?" Ron asked in whispered awe.

"Something to remember me by," Remus answered, mocking Ron’s words from the night before. 

"Remus!" Sirius called from the other room. 

Ron groaned. He was really starting to hate that guy. Always taking from him all the people he cared about the most.

"Coming," Remus called and, ignoring Ron’s childish laugh, stood up.

Ron watched him leave and then banged his head on the table. It was going to be a long couple of days. He ground the heel of his palm into his painfully erect cock. A very long couple of days.

He was just contemplating going back to his room and taking care of his problem, when the kitchen door swung open again. 

"Oh hey, you’re up. You know where Remus and Sirius just went?" Harry asked.

"Full moon," Ron said in reply.

"Oh, yeah, right." He went to the cabinet and pulled down a mug. "So, just the two of us huh? What should we do?"

Ron adjusted himself. "I don’t know. It’s been so long since it’s just been the two of us. What did we used to like doing?"

Harry laughed. "Right? Maybe we could grab Hermione and go to the cinema?"

Ron groaned inwardly. Once the war had been over, Ron had expressed an interest in doing some Muggle things he’d heard them talking about all those years. So they had saw a lot of movies, went to a lot of shopping centers, went to a few sporting events. Then they saw a few too many and Ron’s fascination had ended. He’d just never told Harry and Hermione. Harry seemed to notice his hidden reluctance. "Or, we could maybe get George, or Neville and go to Leaky?"

"Or maybe just the two of us?" Ron suggested, hoping it didn’t sound as desperate as it felt.

"Perfect. Where to?"

"Remus took me to a place last night that was pretty fun. We could go there."

"Alright. Tonight? Sounds good?"

~oOo~

"So, you and Remus came here last night?" Harry asked, sitting at the bar and looking around.

"Yeah. It was a lot more active though. Maybe it’s early?"

Harry shrugged. "I like it like this. Easier to talk. It seems like forever since we’ve really talked."

Ron’s heart swelled. Harry had noticed too. It wasn’t just him. 

The bartender from the night before came to them. "You’re back."

Ron blushed. 

"Two of the same?"

Ron nodded and both he and Harry watched the man walk away.

"Must have left an impression," Harry said.

Ron continued to blush. But when the drinks were brought back and after they had paid, he was confused. He held up the napkin the bartender had purposefully placed beside Ron’s drink on. There were numbers on it.

"What’s this?" Ron asked.

Harry looked over and sputtered. "He is giving you his phone number!"

"What? Why?" Ron asked.

Harry laughed. "I think the Muggles call it a hook up."

"A hook up?"

"You know, you call him, you make arrangements to go out. You… do stuff…"

"Oh," Ron said, and then looked from the napkin to the man at the other end of the bar, back to the napkin. Suddenly it all dawned on him. "Oh!"

He didn’t think he was that obtuse, but it was all a bit new to him. Phones. Blokes finding him attractive. Blokes making the first move. Especially when he was out with Harry. Blokes very rarely noticed him when he was with Harry. But then again, he wasn’t really standing next to The Chosen One at a Muggle bar. Harry was just Harry here. And apparently, some blokes really did prefer gingers. 

Harry slapped him on the back. "Well, it looks like you’re taken care of." He picked up his drink and slammed it down in one large swallow. "I’ll be back."

Ron watched Harry walk around the bar to where the bartender was standing, lean in and say something in his ear. The man pointed to the back room and Harry smiled and followed where he’d pointed.

The bartender came back to Ron’s side of the bar. 

"Thanks," Ron said, holding up the napkin with his number.

"You should use it. Maybe tomorrow? Give me a call?"

Ron swallowed. "Let me ask you something first."

"Yeah?"

"How did you know I wasn’t with--" He pointed to Harry’s vacant seat.

The bartender shrugged. "It’s a skill I’ve gotten pretty good at over the years. Accessing relationships based on body language and other factors."

"What other factors?" Ron asked, curious to what others see when they looked at him and Harry.

"Well, the way both of you watched my arse as I walked away," he pointed to a mirror that he’d obviously used. "And the way he was scanning the room made me think he was on the prowl. Plus, he just asked me if we had a hidey hole, so--"

 

"A what?" Ron asked. 

"You know, a back room. A dark and dirty room. For anonymous shenanigans."

Ron swallowed hard, his ears buzzing. "And do you?"

"Where do you think your friend took off so fast?"

Ron bolted out of his seat. The guy said something, but Ron couldn’t hear it. When he turned back, he saw that he had taken the napkin and ripped it in two. It didn’t matter. Ron had to get to the back room. He didn’t know what he was going to do when he got back there, but it was imperative that he stopped Harry from doing anything stupid. That was what his rational mind was saying, but another part, a part lower and reckless, fueled by his drink and the words Remus had said about he and Sirius and how it had been enough, maybe they could do the stupid thing together. Just once. Just so Harry could see what he was missing, what he could have if he wanted.

His heart was racing painfully and his vision was blurred as he made his way to the back room. He’d never been in one of those anonymous dark places. He didn’t know why, it just wasn’t something he’d ever thought he’d like, not being able to see who was doing what, not being able to say anything. What was the point?

Well, he knew there was a point. Still, it had never been his point. But, it had never been Harry in the offering.

It took him a moment to adjust to the dark when he went around the corner and suddenly the lights were out. He felt bodies around him and suddenly panicked that he wasn’t going to find Harry, that some stranger was going to fondle him, that he was going to have to listen to Harry being pleasured in ear shot and no way to do anything about it. 

Then Harry was there in front of him and Ron felt idiotic that he would even doubt he’d be able to know him even in the dark. He hadn’t even touched him and he knew; it was like he could feel the air around him change. Ron didn’t know what to do, where to put his hands. Harry didn’t have that problem. He was pulling at Ron’s shirt. Ron went to kiss him but Harry pushed him away. 

It was like a slap in the face, a bucket of frigid water. Harry had Ron’s shirt over his head and his hands all over his bare skin. If Ron had any lingering doubts that his companion was Harry, they were now gone. He knew what Harry’s hands on him felt like. Never like this though, he’d dreamed of it, imagined it, but this was all wrong.

"Stop."

Harry froze. "Ron?"

But Ron had already pushed and shoved half of the darkened room and there was a trail of angry outbursts as he bolted out of the room. He didn’t care.

"Ron! Ron!" Harry followed him out of the bar. Ron really wished he wouldn’t have bothered. 

"Is that how you like it?" Ron asked, trying not to shout as he turned to face Harry out on the sidewalk.

"What were you doing back there?" Harry shouted back, not seeming to even bother to contain himself.

"What were _you_ doing back there?"

Harry ran his fingers through his hair. "I was _trying_ to get some action."

"And that’s how you get it? In the dark? No talking? No kissing?"

Harry looked down and whispered, "Yeah. I mean… for now..."

"But why?"

Harry sat down on the curb. Ron joined him. "I don’t know. I’m just… not in the place where I have the energy for relationships. With the flutter in the stomach and the every waking thought on that person and everything else they entail. But… well… I’m a man… a human person…"

"And you have needs?"

Harry blushed. "Yeah, that."

Ron shrugged. It didn’t make sense to him, but this wasn’t really about him. "And that’s enough?"

"More than enough right now."

There was a long silence. Ron had questions, but he didn’t want them to come off as judgements. 

Harry seemed to need to justify it further though. After a moment or two of silence he began, "It’s just sex, just a release. Sex shouldn’t be as important as we make it, shouldn’t be _everything_. Mostly it’s not. But occasionally, when the need of it overtakes everything else, I find places like this and get it over with."

Ron shuddered. "Well, you’re right, sex shouldn’t be everything, but, I don’t know… I don’t think it should be something you have to _get over with_ either. Besides, how did you ever find places like that? How did you even know they existed?"

Halfway through the question, he thought he knew the answer. "Sirius showed me," Harry answered, confirming his suspicion. 

_Really starting to not like that guy,_ Ron thought, inwardly growling.

"He understood what I was going through because he goes through it too."

"But, you won’t always be like this will you?" Ron asked, hoping it didn’t sound accusatory. He was just a bit heartbroken for his friend at that moment and it had very little to do with the fact that he’d like to still someday imagine that Harry would realize that together they could be more than they were, and still it wouldn’t have to be this horrendous thing that Harry had to _deal_ with, that it could just _be_.

"Of course not. I’m sure I’ll eventually meet someone. Put myself out there and all of that. I’m just not ready." He shrugged. "And I’m young. I’ve got time to sort it all out."

Ron agreed. Sort of. "Are you happy?"

Harry looked down the road then looked back at Ron and shrugged. "I’m alive."

Ron swallowed. "I guess that’s better than the alternative."

Harry laughed and slapped Ron on the back. "Come on, let’s go home, get drunk and regale ourselves with tales of yore."

Ron smiled wide and stood, grabbed Harry’s hand to pull him up, and then they both popped home.

~oOo~

A few nights later when Remus stumbled into his bedroom, he got a shock.

"Ron? What are you doing in here?" 

Ron was curled up on the side of the bed looking like he was right at home, looking like he might have moved into that room in Remus’ absence.

"I wanted to see you when you got home," Ron said. 

Remus slumped and let his rucksack slip off his shoulder and down to the floor.

"Ron, I can’t do this right now."

Ron stood up and went to Remus who looked relieved that Ron wasn’t in fact naked under the covers, that he was wearing a pair of flannel pajama bottoms.

"I don’t want to do anything. I just want to stay." He promised himself he wouldn’t plead, but the way Remus looked--broken, bruised and exhausted--and Ron really wanted to be there, for both of them.

Remus sighed. "Fine. If that’s what you want. But I need to take a shower." 

Ron sat on the bed and waited. When Remus returned though, he was back on his feet again instantly. "Merlin, look at you!" 

Remus had a towel around his waist and Ron could see that almost every inch of his exposed skin was scratched. Long vicious swatches on his torso, tiny pricked lines on his arms. Ron had gotten used to the scars on Remus’ face that marked his monthly change and its toll on him, but he had erroneously thought that was the extent of it. He had no idea that they were the least of his wounds.

Remus looked down at his chest and shrugged. "I have some ointment. It will look much better in a couple of days."

"Look better, but will it feel better?"

"It helps."

He went to his dresser and reached for the jar of medicine and was about to rifle through his drawers for some pajamas when Ron was next to him, taking the ointment with one hand, and Remus with the other. 

Remus looked reluctant, but he lay down on the bed like Ron instructed. Ron sat beside him and took some of the horrid smelling medicine and rubbing it between his palms to warm it up, began gingerly applying it to Remus’ scratched arms.

"What are these from?" Ron asked.

"Branches and brambles."

"And these?" Ron asked, running his medicated fingers along the claw marks of Remus’ torso. He twitched at the touch.

"Had an itch."

"And is that a bite mark?" Ron asked as Remus rolled over to his stomach.

Ron gently touched the marks on Remus’ shoulder that definitely looked like teeth punctures.

"You know how it is when dogs play."

"Sirius did that to you?" Ron asked, incensed. _Yep, really not liking that guy_.

"No. Padfoot did that to me. He keeps my mind off the hunt, off the need to rip, to tear to destroy. He keeps me sane. You think he’s any less marked by our time away?"

Ron swallowed. _Okay, maybe he wasn’t_ all _bad_.

After he tended to the rest of the wounds, Remus turned back around and put his hands behind his head. He looked a million times better.

"Thank you."

"It was nothing," Ron said, curling up beside Remus and gently placing his arm across his chest.

"Little Problem Two," Remus began.

Ron groaned. "You’re seriously getting out the list right now?"

"Seems like a good time."

"By all means, do proceed."

"I’m easy."

Ron barked. "You’re what?"

"I’m here. I’m available; I’m an easy alternative to going out there and meeting new people and putting yourself and your heart on the line."

Ron almost couldn’t wait to hear him finish before he started laughing, and it took him a long time to stop. A really long time.

"What’s so funny?" Remus finally had to ask.

Ron stopped. "Two things. That you think _you_ are the easy option." He pointed to Remus’ blooded body and all that it entailed. "You? Easy," he laughed again. "Secondly, I think it’s hilarious how hugely you overestimate how hard it is to go out and find a hook up."

"A what?"

"Hook up. It’s a term I just learned. I’m assuming it means easy sex, one night stand."

"Oh."

There was a silence while Remus seemed to process this information and Ron snuggled a bit closer to Remus’ side, began to unconsciously rub his middle finger along one of the puckered curves of scar on Remus’ chest. Remus moved one of his hands from behind his head to around Ron’s shoulder, his fingers tickling the lines of Ron’s long-forgotten scars as well.

"Tiny Problem Three," Remus began again. Ron groaned but didn’t interrupt. "We’re at different places in our lives. You should be out having adventures, hook ups and what-have-yous."

Ron chuckled this time. "First it was that you were too easy and now it’s because you’re too complicated? Maybe your fourth problem should be that you’re just not into me. You are making assumptions about my wants and needs that aren’t true so you can be the nice guy who convinced me I don’t want this instead of just telling me _you_ don’t want it."

Remus swung around to face Ron, wincing at the pain that move caused. He reached up to caress Ron’s face. "I don’t know where you’ve gotten this image of me, but really, I’m not that nice. If I weren’t interested, if I didn’t really want this too, believe me, I’d stop trying to find reasons we shouldn’t be together and just shut it all down."

"So, you _do_ want me?" Ron asked, hating that it came out in an anxious whisper.

"Very much so, but--"

Ron didn’t hear the but and didn’t give him time to add to it. He kissed him hard, only relenting when he felt Remus twinge against the contact of their chests, or Ron’s hands that were desperately trying to find a place on Remus to hold onto without causing pain. Ron pulled away, but saw the need in Remus’ eyes mirrored his own, knew that there would be no more need of lists and problems tonight. 

He tugged at Remus’ towel and was relieved when Remus lifted his hips slightly to release it. He was even more relieved when he looked down and saw that there were parts of Remus’ body that weren’t actively hurting. He shimmied his body down the length of Remus’ body, kissing any bits of skin he could find that weren’t mangled as he made his way down to Remus’ cock. 

He wanted to taste it, to tease it and take his time to explore it, but he also didn’t want to give Remus time to come up with some other issue. So, he wrapped his finger around the base and with not even a lick, not even a moistening of the tip to taste, he took it deep down his throat and sucked long and hard, pulling his lips up and down the shaft, his fingers tickling the scrotum.

The screeches and howls coming out of Remus were indecent and there was only a split second where Ron worried that they were from pain and not pleasure. But then Remus grabbed on tight to Ron’s hair, fisting and tearing strands, and it would have been painful if he were anywhere else, doing anything else. There though, he barely felt it, and what he did feel just urged him to suck harder, swallow him deeper, milking Remus’ jubilant orgasm loudly out of him. 

Ron wiped his mouth before kissing his way back up Remus’ body and snuggling deep into Remus arms. 

"No more lists, cross them all off, throw them away," Ron ordered around an exhausted yawn. 

Remus kissed his forehead, his nose, then his lips. "No more."

He waited until he was sure that Ron was asleep to add, "There was only one left on the list anyway. Big Problem One: You’re in love with someone else."

~oOo~

The next morning Ron woke up with a yawn and a stretch. There was only a fraction of a moment that he looked around in a panic, but the memory of the night before washed it away and replaced it with images that made him giddy.

He tiptoed out of the room, so as not to wake Remus, and headed for the kitchen to fetch them some coffee.

"Hey, Harry. Hi!" he stammered as he turned the corner and saw Harry sitting at the kitchen table, looking half asleep and rather put out by the mere fact of being awake. 

"Morning Ron, you’re up early."

"Is it?" Ron looked down to his wrist and the watch that wasn’t there.

He hadn’t even noticed Sirius at the stove until he came to stand beside Harry, hand him a coffee cup, ruffle his hair affectionately before walking passed Ron. "Morning."

"Morning," Ron mumbled. 

Harry bent over his mug, as if he was going to ingest it through his flared nostrils. Ron just watched him. Finally, he had to know and he didn’t care what sort of arsehole he sounded like asking. "Are you two fucking?"

Harry sputtered out the coffee he had just poured into his mouth. "What?"

"You heard me; don’t make me ask again." Ron went and sat across from him, hoping this wasn’t a conversation that they shouted at each other.

"Me and Sirius? Are you mental? Why would you… ? How do you…?"

Harry couldn’t finish his sentences and Ron couldn’t open his mouth at all. Suddenly it all seemed so ridiculous. And what did it matter? Sirius wasn’t the reason that Harry didn’t love him. Harry didn’t love him because he just didn’t. Not like that.

"You said it yourself, sex isn’t important, it’s something that you do because you need to, so what’s to stop you from needing to with Sirius?" Ron finally asked.

"Sirius is like a father to me," Harry said slow and quiet after a long pause and a deep breath.

"But he’s not your father. Just because he’s older, just because he’s had more experiences, had more life lived doesn’t mean that you two couldn’t have things in common, couldn’t be attracted to each other..." Ron realized too late that he wasn’t talking about Harry and Sirius at all.

Harry, however, must have picked up on it. "It’s not like you and Remus--" Ron sputtered something, but Harry held up his hand to quiet him. "No, let me finish. Whether there is or isn’t anything between you two is none of my business. Not really. But Sirius and I are different, and it’s not the age thing, or him being legitimately old enough to be my father since he and my actual dad were the same age. I’m saying it’s different because Sirius is the closest thing I have to _family_ , that’s what I mean when I say he’s like a father to me. Like you’re a brother to me. You know? Family. It means everything to me; you and Sirius mean everything to me. I would never ruin that with sex."

Ron couldn’t even describe, couldn’t even put into words what was going on with his heart at that precise moment. If it were possible for an organ to break and swell at the exact time, maybe that would be close to the truth of it. 

"You mean everything to me too." Ron whispered back. He realized that was the closest he was ever going to get to telling Harry exactly how he felt, and that it was true. Harry did mean everything to him, but he wasn’t going to _be_ his everything. 

Big Problem One: He and Harry were at different places in their lives.  
Big Problem Two: Ron loved someone else.

~fin~

**Author's Note:**

> Please show your appreciation for the author here, or on [LIVEJOURNAL](http://hp-crossgenfest.livejournal.com/23004.html)! ♥


End file.
